Observing 9/11

There have been references to 9/11 here. In 2013, for example, I wrote A Thought for September 11 and even earlier, in 2011, I shared anniversary thoughts in Ten Years Later, so it might be time to move on and let the past be the past. Indeed, “move on” was the phrase I used in the 2011 post: “Yet ten years later, as the anniversary of 9/11 approached, most of us had moved on. We are living in a different world now and, yes, one greatly changed by the actions of that horrible day. But we had — nevertheless — moved on.”

Have we? Now I'm not quite so sure. Conversations with several friends over the past few days, and especially with two special and long-time friends (one in England and one in Germany) make it clear that, yes, the world has changed and today’s world has little in common with the pre-9/11 world. So it is undoubtedly a “different” world we inhabit nowadays. But is it a better world? Did we learn anything from 9/11? Did we fix anything?

Canterbury Cathedral
(Photo: Andrew Berner)

Many of my friends like to characterize me (sometimes teasingly) as one variation of that sort of “eternal optimist” we hear about from time to time. Others pick up on my habit of putting out of my mind (usually without realizing it) any “bad things” that happen and literally not remembering them, even when I’m reminded that they happened.

Perhaps both characterizations fit but I’m now realizing — for perhaps the first time in fifteen years — that I’m beginning to arrive at some sort of emotional maturity about 9/11 (acceptance?), although I expect my situation at the time wasn’t particularly unique. All of us went through the horrors of the experience and in many respects I'm sure what happened to me was not unlike things that happened to others. Nevertheless, my experience affected me.

In my case, I was in a meeting at the Pentagon when the first plane hit the World Trade Center. Someone rushed into our meeting with the news and almost immediately a huge television on the wall came alive and on it we witnessed the second airplane crashing into the second tower. Not long after (I don't know how long but I think I passed out or something, because I remember someone bringing me around), I was able to leave the building to get to my rental car. While driving out of the now very crowded circular highway around the Pentagon, I saw the airplane targeted for Washington dive into the building. All the traffic sped away as fast as we could get out of there. Once back at the hotel — where watching Peter Jennings I remained mesmerized for the rest of the day — all I could think about was getting back to New York (as I was able to do on the first train back to New York the next day).

Die Neue Synagoge — Berlin
(Photo: Andrew Berner)

So 9/11 was a truly unbelievable experience but, as I say, not only for me but I suppose for millions of others as well. And what came of it, on the personal level for us as citizens of the world or as citizens of wherever we happen to live? I don’t know the answer to that question and being neither a philosopher nor particularly religious (I’m probably one of those “none” believers we hear about from the Pew Research Center) but even thinking in those directions, I am not sure that is where the answer lies. Nevertheless — and as a little aside — I continue to be impressed with what some of the recognized philosophers have to say. And I continue to respect people who have faith. I enjoy sacred music (particularly choral sacred works) and visiting monuments of faith, as we might call them. When I travel, I take special pleasure in seeing these magnificent buildings and having them captured in photos (some shown here). And there's no question but that I open my heart to the many generations of ages past whose faith led them to expect some version of “deliverance” as society moved forward and how they demonstrated their faith in constructing these splendid religious monuments.

La Mezquita — The Great Mosque of Córdoba
(Photo: Andrew Berner)

And not just people of the past, for there are believers today, whether believers in some religious faith or simply humanists and enlightened thinkers who believe in the “goodness of man” (as it is sometimes expressed). But are we advancing? Of course the world has changed since 9/11, and in ways that demonstrate clearly that the pre-9/11 world will never return. Yet knowing full well that our world will never be the same again, how do we get beyond what we are witnessing and truly frightened about? Most of the people I know (myself included) are considerably distressed with the nasty political battle going on in the United States, and the possibility of destroying the society we have and building a new society based on lies and hatred (of immigrants and any "others" who seem to be so casually identified). Despite our faith in humanity — no matter how limited — such a society is destined to self-destruct and, I fear, to do so sooner rather than later. We are very frightened and while we try to be optimistic, it is difficult. We feel it all around us. Everyone is frightened.

Marble Collegiate Church
(Photo: Marble Collegiate Church)

So what conclusions are left for us? Where do we go from here? Believing strongly in that optimism I’m characterized with I want our society — local, regional, nationally, and yes, even internationally — to advance, and while there are no simple answers to the question, I think we must look to two points of view that in my opinion would give us strength. And perhaps might help us deal with what we're up against.

One, not surprisingly, is simply trust. No long definitions of trust or the value of trust are required at this point. We know what we are talking about and all we have to do is have the strength (and especially ask our leaders to have the strength) to think in terms of trust and not in terms of “gotcha.”

And there’s more: What would happen if we returned to the almost simplistic leadership (speaking of leaders) of one of the most talked-about people of the past? Wasn’t it the Rev. Norman Vincent Peale — at Marble Collegiate Church just a few blocks from where I now live — who urged a mantra of “positive thinking”? Of course the idea as formalized and preached by Dr. Peale was and remains controversial. And certainly “positive thinking” as described by Dr. Peale is not advocated by many serious thinkers today. But what would our world be like if, in fact, our leaders (not just, but especially world leaders) replaced fright and hatred with a positive approach to getting along? I know nothing about diplomacy but I can’t help but wonder if such an approach it possible. Probably not, but the words — even if only as words just because they are out there and part of our vernacular — could be given some thought. Could this be a direction for our post 9/11 society?

Spring Visit: Canterbury Windows in New York

View from The Cloisters
across the Hudson River

Up in Fort Tryon Park, in northern Manhattan, we have a very special place that appeals to so many of us New Yorkers. It's The Cloisters museum and gardens and it has just completed the celebration of its 75th anniversary.

And it's been a splendid celebration, complete with a beautifully written and produced issue of The Metropolitan Museum of Art Bulletin devoted exclusively to the history of the Cloisters. "Creating The Cloisters" by Timothy B. Hubbard provides a wonderfully detailed description of this branch of The Metropolitan Museum of Art specially devoted to the art and architecture of medieval Europe. The collection was assembled from architectural elements, both domestic and religious, largely dating from the twelfth through the fifteenth centuries.

Not surprisingly, the collection is full of many artifacts that each evoke a particular response from visitors (and it doesn't matter whether you are a believer or not - this is great stuff to look at and think about). I have a couple of favorites, but I'm not a scholar. So I've never taken the time to study the official guidebook or delve deeply to find out more about them (should do that one day). I just like them.

Wise old people

The first is what I like to think of as a group of kings or prophets or something like that, but who knows? Perhaps they are just wise old people (I started to write "wise old men" but I don't think the figure second from the right would be very happy about that!). I'm specially taken with the last figure on the right, as he seems to be pondering some special problem that is going to be very important to everyone who knows him once he solves it (and don't you sometimes sit with your cheek against your right fist while you trying to solve a problem?).

Two ladies

Then there are the two ladies topping off a column and providing substance to its capital. Just what is the lady who in not front-and-center thinking about? Could it be something along the lines of "Just who does she think she is, getting out front and getting all the attention when I'm the one people should be looking at?" I love that stone carvers in olden times could incorporate their own sense of humor in their work.

Now, with the 75th Anniversary celebrations ended and life for visitors to The Cloisters back to normal, we've just had another special treat. [And when I say "back to normal" I'm simply referring to life as "normal" as it can be for visitors - New Yorkers and out-of-towners alike - who thrive on learning all they can about New York's history and how it attached to special interests like those of John D. Rockefeller Jr. - who built The Cloisters - and George Grey Barnard, the person who brought together the original items that became the first collection at The Cloisters.]

Jared (left) and Phalec (right)

The special treat I'm referring to is this: In a special arrangement with Canterbury Cathedral, we've just had a wonderful opportunity to view six Romanesque-period stained glass windows that have never been away from the cathedral grounds since they were created in the 1178-1180 period. At Canterbury, the stonework surrounding the windows is being restored, and while the restoration work is being done, the windows have been on loan to us.

The exhibition was called Radiant Light: Stained Glass from Canterbury Cathedral at The Cloisters and there's this from a nice published description at the museum site:

Thara

"The windows are from the clerestory of the cathedral's choir, east transepts, and Trinity Chapel. The six figures—Jared, Lamech, Thara, Abraham, Noah, and Phalec—were part of an original cycle of eighty-six ancestors of Christ, the most comprehensive stained-glass cycle known in art history. One complete window (Thara and Abraham), rising nearly twelve feet high, is shown with its associated rich foliate border."

I'm not an expert in cathedral windows, but I did enjoy the exhibition (sorry I couldn't write about it before it was over) and I was delighted to learn about a book on the larger subject of the saints depicted here: The Ancestors of Christ Windows at Canterbury Cathedral, by Jeffrey Weaver and Madeline H. Caviness describes some eighty-six near-life-size figures of the male ancestors of Christ that once could be seen in the choir and eastern extension of the medieval cathedral and priory church of Canterbury.

With the windows here with us in New York, I recently took a day go to The Cloisters, to visit the windows to delight not only in the windows themselves but just to have another visit to The Cloisters, one of the highlights on any list of unique New York experiences. The visit also gave me the opportunity to have a delightful trip down memory lane, for earlier in my career I had been introduced to a delightful lady - now gone, sadly - who was something of an expert on Canterbury's windows. She came to America frequently to lecture to museum friends groups, civic associations, church and literary historical societies, and the like (not surprising that the list should be so long, since Canterbury Cathedral's history is so long and so connected to all Christendom).

On one of her lecture tours, I got to know her and of course, just by some sort of osmosis process I suppose, found myself interested in cathedral stained glass windows, cathedrals themselves, and - considering my profession then - cathedral libraries. I was extremely lucky, for just a few years after meeting Mrs. Brooks I was granted a sabbatical from my then employer to go to England and study English cathedral libraries with the goal (according to my book agent) of producing the definitive book on English cathedral libraries, a large coffee-table type book to be filled with splendid illustrations of artifacts held in the cathedral libraries. As it turned out I was in England for 18 months, living at Mrs. Brooks's house in Canterbury (although I was of necessity required to travel all over England and visit all the cathedral cities as I pursued my research). An ambitious project, and one I was delighted to undertake.

That 18 months was a spectacular time for me, living in Canterbury, traveling all over the country, spending enormous blocks of time at the British Library and even, when required, at the London Library - which I learned to love as a sort of "library home away from home." I even took digs in London for a brief spell, since I was so captivated by being in London and have available to me all that - as for many Americans - London "life" represents. Whether real or fantasy, that environment charms many of us, so to have the opportunity to enjoy London as a real person and not as a tourist was a special treat. I've never forgotten that time in my life, and for me London and Canterbury (and yes, to a certain extent other places I visited in England as well) are a big part of my adult "memory book".

And they were fun times. I made many friends - some of whom I keep up with and who will be reading this post - and I experienced so many good stories that I can't begin to tell them all. I will, though, close this post with a typical story, connecting the visit to the Canterbury windows in New York with Guy's life in Canterbury nearly thirty years ago, a very happy time indeed. And some of my friends will recognize this story, for I used to tell it often.

Kathleen Brooks was a delightful and always cheerful good friend. Whether she was one of the "typical" English eccentrics or not is beside the point, but she definitely had her ways. And often, with a total lack of self-consciousness, she would describe a situation that - for some - might be considered self-deprecating. Didn't matter. Whatever the story was, she described the situation and, with her listeners, laughed heartily.

One day, at the cathedral, she had been called to guide a group of visiting businessmen, all from Northern Europe. Protesting that she did not know any Scandinavian languages, she tried to decline but was told that the men all spoke perfect English, so she agreed to do the tour.

As was her usual habit, she walked the group (a pretty large one - about thirty people) about the cathedral, telling all the stories and of course, with her specialty, focusing on the stories illustrated in the magnificent stain glass windows.

Also as was her habit, she always tried to have her listeners stop from time to time for a few moments, just to take in the enormous space of the cathedral and all that it represented to society and to history. And to have a bit of a rest.

After the men were all seated, Kathleen herself decided to take a rest, so she sat down in the pew just behind the last few of the visitors. They were deep in conversation, and did not notice that she had sat down behind them. As it happened, she was so close that she could not help but hear their conversation, which was all about the tour and all that the visitors were seeing, and especially about her enthusiasm as a guide.

And then one of the men turned to the others and, without missing a beat, said, "And did you ever meet a lady with so much useless information?"

She told the story often, always roaring with laughter, and seeing the Canterbury windows in New York made me realize just how much she would have loved seeing them here.

End of day -time to head
back to mid-town Manhattan

So it was a special day at The Cloisters. Here's an end-of-the-visit photo. You can see it's still a winter's day - not quite the springtime warmth we would like to have had for an April visit to The Cloisters but, yes, down in the shadows is a crocus or two trying hard.

And a very nice day anyway, a day for re-visiting Canterbury Cathedral windows, a day of re-living special Guy-in-England memories, and a day for about thinking about a very special lady, a wonderful influence in my life. She taught me much, and gave substance to my love of English cathedrals.

Oh, and all that research about English cathedral libraries? I ended up following in Kathleen's footsteps and giving lots of lectures and telling lots of stories and having a few articles published. The proposed book that sent me on my journey? Didn't happen. Now generally referred to as "Guy's famous unpublished book on cathedral libraries." It was a grand idea, had lots of support from people I knew in America, including a very hard-working agent, and support from folks in the Anglican church (some, not all). My agent really tried had to sell the project to the art publishers but it wasn't to be. When my research work in England was finished with no publication in sight, it was time to move on.